So Long Sunshine
by MiseryMaker
Summary: Brief glimpse of how Booth might spend part of his time dealing with the after-effects of last season's finale.


So Long Sunshine

_**[A/N: I love Joshua Radin's music. His new album is great, and my misery-loving soul instantly fell in love with his new song "So Long Sunshine." It made me think of Booth and how much he'd miss Bones and Christine. It yanked on my heartstrings. It inspired me to write even though I had no time and absolutely no inclination until I heard this song. This is just a one shot. And it's not happy. (That should be no surprise.) But the album is terrific. Go buy it or buy the song. It might break your heart in a good way, too.**_

_**I cannot begin to claim full credit for this story. I wrote the initial draft of it, and my dear TwitterPal known here as "forensicsfan" was kind enough to read it. Thank heavens for her brilliance. Like all good Bones fans, I'd banished Parker to the world of "that kid Booth used to spend time with" and practically forgotten all about him. Thanks to the fantastic suggestions she made, this story now had more balance and more humor and is twice as long- I know that you'll enjoy reading this version more. Thanks so much for your suggestions, my friend! No wonder I miss reading your stories so much!**_

_**Oh, and I don't own the song mentioned earlier or Bones or its characters-although their true owners have my undying devotion and respect and will continue to make money from my purchases of their fine work.]**_

"I was just thinking it's been a long time. Since I got to see you. Tell you I wish you were mine. So I've been sinking into this dark place. Cause I need to hold you. Tell you I'll never be fine unless you come home. I wish you would come home." – Joshua Radin, So Long Sunshine, Underwater Album, 2012

Even though he was alone and nobody would know what he was doing or how ridiculous he felt doing this alone, Booth felt embarrassed. He bristled even though he was the only one around to notice the blush on his cheeks. He was too old and too damned tough to do something silly and sentimental like this. But he'd been itching to do this thing since the idea had first hit him earlier in the week.

Late on a Saturday afternoon, with nothing left to do and no outlet for his never-ending frustration with the fact that he'd been long stuck in boring a desk job and that he'd been unable to find his family for months on end, he'd felt compelled to do something different, to change his vantage-point, to try to find a way to keep his mind from bursting at the seams with the raw need to change his circumstances. He didn't have Bones there with him to argue about whether what he was contemplating was too irrational or ludicrous or even pointless—which it probably was. So, foregoing yet another mental argument with his absent love, he forged ahead in hopes of lightening his load or at least distracting him from it for a brief while.

After stalling as long as he could without anything productive to do instead, Booth had stepped out into the back yard he'd mowed earlier that afternoon and walked past the vegetable garden he'd planted for Bones right after they'd moved in. Even though nobody else was there to hear it, he grumbled to himself about the fact that he still watered it and tended it carefully and worse yet-that he ate the freaking vegetables he'd never have eaten had Bones been there with him. He did that—mumble and grumble to himself—more than usual these days. It was as if he were still bickering with Bones even though she wasn't bickering back with him.

Crossing the lawn, he tried to talk himself into going to a bar or going for a run or doing anything else but what he'd been considering. Unsuccessful in talking himself into doing anything else, he finally stood and stared up at the tree house he'd built a few weekends ago with Parker-with Wendell's and Hodgins' help. As the dappled light of sunset filtered down through the leaves of the large tree which had proven perfect for supporting a tree house, Booth instantly flashed back to the time he and Bones had talked about how amazing it would be to have a yard with a tree big enough to support a tree house… and when they'd promised to build it for their children… and for the child in each of them that never had a such a magical place to retreat and feel safe. Booth had built the structure exactly as he'd imagined it should be, feeling a bit of angst about not including Bones in the plans for it. He had held off on painting it—he wanted so much to bicker with Bones about painting it chartreuse or some other random, weird-named color. For now, this raw and colorless tree house, their family tree house, had been carefully crafted from his mind and his own broken childhood dreams and with the all the tender-loving care a broken-hearted man could invest.

Looking up at the tree house now, he felt a surge of emotion and then guilt overwhelm him. He'd told himself he wouldn't visit it again—wouldn't even venture up into that sacred place again until he was taking Bones—and maybe Christine-up there for the first time. But the very idea that he might feel closer to them in that place had dragged him out to consider climbing up alone. He was a man out of options and desperate to do something—even to thumb his nose at the universe for leaving him pining for the family he'd finally found but still hadn't quite convinced himself he deserved.

As he stood there, he was long in thoughts too heavy for any expedition to an adventure-filled, potentially-best-hideout-ever tree house. Would Bones be happy with it? Would she like it? Or would she resent the fact that he had in some small ways moved on—that he'd really kept on living without them? Would she think he'd done this—excluded her from participating in something they'd planned together-out of spite? He hadn't, of course, but he wasn't sure what she'd think about his building this for their children without her input. They had come up with the idea together and yet he'd implemented it solo. Something as relatively trivial and insignificant as deciding what a tree house should look like had now taken on a deeper significance and had become more important since Bones wasn't there with him making the bigger decisions about their shared life with him. This was all he had, all he could do without her. Aside from doing his work, spending his rotating weekends with Parker, paying their bills, and asking Bones' agent to postpone another month's activities, he'd put most everything else on hold as he'd waited and hoped and prayed that this lonely house wasn't going to be where he spent the rest of his adulthood.

What the hell, Bones hadn't included him in her plans, had she? He groaned inwardly and sighed audibly, berating himself for going down that over-travelled road once more. On autopilot, he mumbled the part of the sinner's prayer about accepting the things he was unable to change. He'd been struggling with that one for a long time now. There were so many things he was now unable to change, but that part of that particular prayer had been his friend for a long time He'd prayed it whenever he and Bones had neared and missed every single crossroads where they might have fallen into each other sooner. What hurt the most now was that he'd thought he'd put that particular prayer to rest—that having Bones and their having Christine and being close to Parker was all he had ever wanted-that there could no longer be anything else he'd waste time worrying about changing. He'd been wrong. Losing them—his girls-even for what he hoped was a temporary time—was too dark, too unbearable, and too heart-crushing. He sighed again, memories of Bones uttering that phrase to him the first time overwhelming him. This limbo—being caught up in longing for her and simultaneously being so angry with her for deserting him and leaving him without a way to help was heart-crushing. And he was afraid it would remain that way for a much longer time. His heart broke all over again with loneliness, with anger, with the pure need to see his girls again.

Uneasy in his purposeless and ever ill-suited for inaction, Booth had climbed the ladder and crept up into the tree house slowly. It was sturdy and well-built. It was the kind of space any kid would be crazy about—Parker had loved it, and he knew Christine would as well. As Booth stooped down and found a place for his tall body to sit comfortably, he was surprised to find that it was really warm up there amongst the branches. It was as if the last few rays of sunlight burned their brightest while they still could reach that very spot. He sighed, feeling instantly at home in the bright light those last waning rays conveyed. For the briefest of moments, Booth let himself envision time spent hanging out with Parker talking about hockey or sorting trading cards or spending time with his little girl having tea parties and playing with dolls and chattering happily as he and Bones sat quietly and contented themselves with the fact that their children would make many happy memories in this place. He could see Parker showing the place off to his friends and bragging about helping build it. He could also envision Christine playing house and squealing with friends and even running away from home one day when she was older to this place. There were windows cut safe and high where he imagined hanging gauzy, cheerful, pink polka dot curtains. There were other smaller holes carved out for lookouts and places to store secret little kid things like frogs and candy and other things he'd have loved hiding when he was a boy. Parker had rambled on incessantly about how "boss" and "sick" the space was and had all but converted it to a preteen boy hangout before it had been finished. He had moaned when Booth had reminded him that he'd need to share it with his little sister. Parker had literally refused the idea that polka dots of any color and that anything pink would be permitted in what he'd already dubbed as his "boy cave." He had quickly asserted that, if they bought different curtains and things for him and for his baby sister, that he'd keep up with them all and change them out and even wash them if needed. The boy did not want pink in his tree house—at least not when he was hanging out there.

In the middle of the floor, there was a trap door with secure hinges and a strong bolt on both the inside and the outside so that neither kid (or the adults either) would have to worry about falling out while playing there. This tree house he'd imagined and crafted was a symbol of the happy childhood he wanted for his son and daughter and that he wanted to oversee with Bones. Sitting there amidst the image of ordinary childhood happiness, he felt, for a moment, lighter and, as he'd hoped, closer to Bones and Christine. Chuckling half-bitterly about his "Field of Dreams"-inspired memory that he knew Parker would have understood immediately and that Bones might not have understood even if she had seen the movie, he hoped that the movie message was true—that if he built it—the tree house—that they would both come home safely to him.

The light of the waning sun was beautiful and its inability to stay there with him as long as he wanted pained him greatly. Watching the bright lights slip beneath the horizon and yet shift up to paint the sky brilliant oranges and pinks and even purples to remind everyone who saw them how brilliant and beautiful and divinely inspired they'd been, he ached to have someone—his someone-there to share the view. He and Bones were too busy and too practical and too much the parents of a newborn to have spent much time watching the sun set together. But he vowed now that he'd change that if—no when—they came home.

Booth reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a photo he'd gotten a few weeks ago. He knew the picture had come from Max. He assumed the man had broken into his house to leave it for him. It was evidence. The lab could have tracked down where the photo had been developed. Hodgins could have identified particulates of some bug that had pooped in the room next to where the photo had been taken—or something. Angela could have identified the ink used to print it, and the squints could have detected… something only squints would notice. He knew that he could be fired—or even arrested-for withholding evidence about the location of a known fugitive. Yet despite the fact that he was a cop to his core, he was a man—a lover and a father-first. Booth had not once considered sharing that photo with anyone else. This photo of Christine was theirs—it was his since they weren't there to share it with him. This was the only proof he had that his daughter was still safe and smiling and beautiful. That made it his most treasured possession. As he gazed at his daughter's innocent face and prayed that he'd see it up close again soon, Booth renewed his commitment to doing whatever had to be done to put his family back together again.

As painful as this now was, Booth realized that he'd made progress dealing with the situation. Months earlier, no one could have convinced Booth that it would be possible—that he really could have continued to live and breathe and function with Bones and Christine horribly absent from him. He really hadn't—not at first. He'd been too angry, too hurt, and too desperate. He'd raged and searched and failed and then fallen into a dark, desperate place and finally refused to leave their home. He'd turned away his friends, punched Max harder than any old man should ever be punched, and even threatened to kill Sweets at one point. Camille had left with tears threatening to fall, Angela had pled with him and then yelled and then melted down as Hodgins had pulled her away, and Wendell had sat in stony silence with him for hours before muttering his support and leaving. Caroline had ranted and threatened and cajoled without success, and his bosses had granted him leave he hadn't requested and then taken his badge and his weapon to force him to accept it.

It had been Pops, showing up unannounced weeks later and lighting into him the way he always had when he'd been a kid, who had finally gotten through to him. With years of experience behind him, Hank had pushed Booth's buttons and annoyed him into talking. And then, ever the loving grandfather, Hank had sat quietly and held his grandson as he finally gave in and cried long overdue tears.

After releasing those raw emotions only to the person he trusted most of all, Booth had finally been able to pull himself back together and move on like the strong man he was at his core. Like enduring beatings by his father or suffering torture from rebel forces or mourning the loss of the women he thought he'd loved, he'd suffered through it—stumbling but resolute. As hard as he tried not to think of them during the day, damn, he missed them both so much. It hurt to know that Christine would be getting bigger by now and that she might not remember him and in all likelihood didn't miss him at all. His gut rolled on him and his heart felt black and empty when he considered that he may have lost his daughter—that she might consider that he hadn't tried to find her and that he'd given up—that he'd deserted her the way Max had deserted Bones.

_God, help me deal with this. God, help her know how much being away from her is killing me._

That same prayer applied to his lover and to his newest child.

Booth sat, squinting in the still bright sun and realizing that he hadn't taken the time to sit and enjoy anything as simple and pure as sunshine in far too long. Not since Bones left. Not without Parker there to make doing more than breathing necessary and important.

After Booth's long overdue meltdown, Hank had made him call Parker to plan something just for the two of them. Hating the wimp he felt like he'd become, Booth had finally told Rebecca what had happened and asked her to tell Parker that Bones and Christine were away and that his father was sad and really didn't want to talk much about it. To his credit, Parker had handled the whole situation like the champ that he was. He had hit Booth with a barrage of questions more than once but he hadn't pushed it—hadn't made Booth talk about things too much. With the simple acceptance of a child who trusts those who love him, Parker accepted the situation and made the most of the time he now had alone with his father.

It had been Parker, after all, who'd decided that building the tree house should become a priority. As Booth sat in the waning sunlight in the tree house he longed to share with his entire family, he walked back through his memories of the way the plans had actually come together.

_Parker had run into his father's room on a Saturday morning and leapt onto the bed, waking the sniper abruptly and making him glad he'd remembered to store his weapon in the safe. _

"_Dad! Dad! DAAAADDDDDDD!" Parker had yelled as he bounced wildly on the bed. _

"_Mmph," Booth grunted, rolling back over and trying to forget that it was actually morning already. _

"_C'mon, Dad!" insisted. "I've already played 3 video games and made my own breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. I've been waiting like FOREVER for you to wake up!" Booth snuck a glance at the clock and noted that it was 7:45. "When you're a teenager, I am jumping on your bed at 7:30 every Saturday," Booth grumbled. _

"_C'mon, Dad. I'm serious. Please get up," Parker half-whined as he stared at his father with a concerned look on his face._

_Taking his time pulling back the covers and slowly moving enough to extricate himself from the warmth of the cozy bed he and Bones had purchased and then christened over and over and over again in delightful and boisterous ways, Booth rose, stretch, and shuffled into the restroom. He emerged a few minutes later and padded down to the kitchen, a noisy Parker in tow._

_Later, when his dad still wasn't talking much, Parker grew quiet. Then he asked tentatively, "Dad?"_

"_Yeah, Parks?"_

"_Are you… you know…. Depressed or something?"_

_Booth shot his kid a look—one of the ones he used to coerce adults into telling him what they were thinking. Parker was unphased._

"_I'm sad, Parker. But, no, I'm not depressed. Why do you ask?"_

"_Well, I know you miss Bones and Christine. I do, too. It's just… you're not talking so much this weekend and you haven't planned anything for us to do. It's okay if you don't feel like doing anything special—we can just hang out. I just… I hope you're okay."_

_Booth's forehead crinkled and his eyes shone with affection for his son. "C'mere, you…," he growled, walking over and pulling his son into a crushing bear hug. _

"_Dad… Breathing… Not happening…," Parker complained as he grinned at his father's attempt to kill him with affection._

_Booth released his stranglehold on the kid but held him tightly at arms' length. "I'm fine, buddy. I'm the grown up. I worry. That's not your job. Yeah, I miss Bones and your baby sister. Yeah, I'm worried about them. But I miss you like crazy, too, when you're not around. It stinks, but I deal with it. It's the same kind of thing. I'm fine, okay?"_

"_Well you know that you don't have to pretend to be happy for my sake, right?" Parker asked him reassuringly._

"_Yeah. Got it," Booth said, pretending to "punch" his kid on the chin and then turning to make breakfast._

"_Can we have pancakes?" Parker asked tentatively. "Pancakes? I thought you'd already eaten."_

"_Yeah, I had cereal. But that doesn't stick to your ribs, does it? Pancakes would. Pancakes sound good."_

"_Enjoy that little boy Booth metabolism while it lasts, Parks. Pancakes it is!"_

_As the two sopped up the syrup with the remnants of two large stacks of pancakes, Parker stirred the pot again._

"_Hey Dad?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_I think we should plan a project. You're the one who always tells me to get up and do something when I'm sad or bored or frustrated. You need to do something, and I want to help. I think we should… you know… do something for Bones and baby Christine—something that will show them how much we missed them. Can we?"_

_Booth eyed his son with a renewed respect for his maturity and his focus on taking care of those around him. His heart swelled with pride and affection for him. "A project… what kind of project?"_

"_I dunno. Does Bones have a 'Honey Do' list for you? Mom keeps one. Drives Drew crazy. He says it's like infinity. The more you do work on the list, the longer it grows. Mom just grins at him evilly. I bet Bones could make a really scary-long 'Honey Do' list. Does she have one?"_

_Booth laughed at his son's commentary. "Well… we're new at this relationship thing, and Bones… Bones, she doesn't have much practice at this kind of thing. I don't think she even knows about the 'Honey Do' list. Let's not tell her so that she doesn't make one. You know Bones, she'd have to make a super-long list to overachieve and all."_

_Parker nodded enthusiastically, eager to keep a secret with this father. _

_Booth thought for a few minutes longer and then floated the idea. "You know, one thing we talked about doing was putting a tree house in the backyard. Does that sound like a project you'd be interested in helping with?"_

"_A real tree house—here… one I could hang out in? Are you kidding me? That would be AWESOME!" Parker yelped. He leapt up, ran around the table and grabbed his dad by the crook of his elbow. "C'mon, Dad. Let's go get started!"_

"_Hang on, Bob the Builder," Booth said as he pulled Parker back toward the table. "Building a tree house will be a big project that requires patience, the following of many rules, and careful planning. Bones won't agree to let either of you climb up into a tree house that isn't safe. I've never built one. I want this to be the one, perfect tree house, so I need time to plan it. You can help, bub, but I can guarantee that we won't be putting it up today."_

"_Aw, man…. That's a bummer," Parker whined._

"_Grown-up projects take grown-up planning, kiddo. That's just the way it works. But you can help. Wanna give it a shot?" Booth winced internally at his choice of words. You'd think being rebuffed by using those words long ago would have taught him to avoid using them. Shaking off memories that no longer served any purpose, he reminded himself that Bones refusing his offer had happened a long time ago, that they now openly admitted how crazy they were about one another, and that Parker was unlikely to say no to anything involving a tree house._

"_Yeah. Can we go shopping or get started or something?" Parker asked._

"_We sure as heck can!" Booth responded with an enthusiasm that immediately made his son grin wildly. "You go get my laptop, and I'll make a few calls. We can map out our plans and check on how to make it safe. Let me see if Wendell and Hodgins want to join us for some male bonding time next time you're over, okay Parks?"_

"_I'm on it. Laptop delivery in 'T minus 2' minutes!" Parker yelled as he ran to retrieve it._

"_Make that only 'T minus 3' minutes, soldier—do not run with my laptop!" Booth yelled after him._

SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS…

_Both Wendell and Hodgins had readily agreed to join in the fun in two weeks. That settled, Booth was now more than a little worried about how excited both men were at the prospect of using power tools and building something. He hoped this wouldn't turn out like one of their crazy lab experiments. He didn't want a tree house that erupted poisonous gases or was shaped like a beaker or anything. _

_He and Parker spent most of their spare time that weekend designing the tree house, planning for supplies, and developing the actual plans for how they'd build it. Parker made a list of everything they'd need, including hard hats and safety goggles and other equipment to keep them safe in case the squints did anything crazy. By Sunday night, they had a good plan. When Booth dropped Parker off at Rebecca's, the boy bear-hugged his father and ran wildly toward his mother, raving about the plans and how he was going to BUILD MY VERY OWN TREEHOUSE! Rebecca glanced between her son and his father, noting once again how similar they were in temperament and in their enthusiasm for doing things together. Anticipating her likely questions about safety, etc., Seeley rattled off a list of explanations designed to put her at ease. He had just started explaining that he hadn't meant to do this–that Parker had inspired the idea that he and Bones had planned for a later time-when his phone rang. Jumpy about any call since Bones had left, he flinched and took the call quickly. As he turned back around after responding to the unimportant call, Rebecca noticed the slump in his shoulders._

"_You holding up okay, Seeley?" Rebecca asked. Booth lied and said that he was-__hating the fact that he knew she saw straight through him. She looked at him to let him know that she saw that he was lying, but otherwise let him off the hook. She saw the haunted look in his eyes and ached for him. He hadn't looked this lost since the night he had told her he was going to Afghanistan. She knew this man better than most other people, and she had seen then how off kilter he felt knowing he was going to be away from the only woman he now seemed born to love. "She loves you, Seeley. She'll come back. And Christine will remember you… she won't even remember being away from you. Look at how much Parker loves you, and he doesn't even spend most of his time with you. It will be okay. It will." Surprising her, he grabbed her and pulled her close, holding on tight and having her return his grasp just as tightly. As he let her go, she noticed him blinking back tears he'd rather die than shed in front of anyone._

"_Hey, tell you what…," she began, looking for a reason to encourage him to smile and be more optimistic. "Can you have all the stuff ready by next weekend? Drew and I could take a trip somewhere—do something for grownups. If you want Parker again next weekend to start on the tree house.…"_

_After his face went blank with surprise, it erupted in a very large, entirely Seeley Booth smile. "Seriously? An extra weekend? That's the nicest thing you've ever done for me. You know, if I didn't have Bones and you didn't have Drew and if we weren't so completely screwed up about relationships, I'd probably propose to you for offering that."_

_She laughed and he laughed, and then his voice dropped a notch as he thanked her. "I'll let you tell Parker," he offered as he turned to leave. "Thanks again, Becks."_

"_Stop flirting with me, Seeley. You haven't called me 'Becks' in… forever."_

"_Not flirting. Just grateful to you for being such a good mom and such a cool ex," he shot back with a grateful grin._

"_You'll hear him yell with excitement all the way at your house!" she yelled after him. Turning back to the house to deliver the good news to both of her guys, Rebecca sent up a silent prayer that Seeley would soon be returning to a love-filled home of his own._

SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS… SLS…SLS…SLS…

_Aside from the typical complications that one might expect to arise when men are being men and consequently trying to outperform and outsmart each other and the certainly expected challenges of surging testosterone associated with use of power tools, building the tree house had gone pretty smoothly. Booth had spent his evenings that week assembling all the needed items and renting or borrowing tools. Parker had called him every night with plans and questions about whether he'd pulled everything together. Wendell and Hodgins had only called twice, and he'd hung up on both squints when they tried to turn his and Parker's project into a scientific debate._

_They'd assembled the base of the tree house on the ground. Then they'd erected scaffolding to help them reach the large branch where they'd planned to place the tree house. Hodgins had contributed some super expensive brackets designed to hold the thing in place even if the branch broke—his only condition was that Booth had to come over and help him build a tree house for Michael soon. Parker pouted when the men climbed up and placed the base in the tree. He hadn't been happy not to help with that part of the project. His father had sternly warned him that he had to listen and that he could not help with things that were dangerous. He finally sent the kid in to make sandwiches while the men strained, struggled, argued, and nearly fell trying to hoist the base into place._

_The men were so caught up in their work that they forgot about food. It was only when Parker used a rope and some of the spare plywood to lift the sandwiches and a tool they'd been arguing about which one of them had misplaced up to them that they noticed how hungry they were. Impressed with his son's ingenuity, Booth had told him to climb up and eat on the platform with them. Satisfied to be involved again, Parker readily agreed. He actually proved to be a big help to all three of them as they worked that afternoon. Booth grinned watching his son walk a bit taller and hold himself more like a man that evening as the guys gorged themselves on food at the diner—his treat._

"_Here's to us," Wendell had toasted, raising his milkshake glass to clink it against the others. "Here's to power tools and male bonding!" Hodgins chimed in. "Here's to good friends and good memories," Booth offered, surprising them with his moment of sentimentality among his crew of men's men. "Here's to being a guy cool enough to have a hideout!" Parker stood and declared proudly. All three men grinned at him, and Booth put a hand on his shoulder to guide him back into his seat. Without warning, Parker rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his father tightly, "You're the best dad ever!" he growled into his father's strong chest. "Bones and Christine will be so proud of us. I can't wait to show the tree house to them!" _

_The other men watched as Booth tried to camouflage the surge of emotion that appeared unbidden on his face. He avoided eye contact with them as he focused all of his attention and energy on his son. "I love you, Parks. Thank you for working with me on this project. You're right. The girls will be proud of us, and I'm proud of us, too." Emotion now rampant in all of the men around the table, things fell silent. Then Wendell cracked a joke and the boisterous celebration continued._

Drawing himself back to his more solitary present circumstances, Booth swallowed hard. He missed Parker so much in moments like this. He missed them all. Bones… He swallowed hard again—fighting the tangle of emotions that accompanied his ache for Bones and cut off his ability to breathe sometimes. Even though it still made him madder than hell, he got it. She had made a logical, rational decision and did what only she would have done. She had been and still was protecting his daughter… and their family. And he loved her for it. Almost as much as he wanted to strangle her for leaving him… for not trusting him to be part of her plan. Sure, she had been trying to save his job. Sure, he trusted her to do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.

But dammit, he needed her… needed them… as much as he needed to be the one protecting them. Because that was who he was and all he really wanted to do. He understood that ever more clearly now. Not that it changed anything. Not that it brought them home to him. Not that he had an idea when or how this would ever end.

Unable to sit there and wallow in his sunlight-dappled misery much longer, Booth pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of him sitting in the tree house in the fading light. He looked down at the image, noticing how sad his eyes were and wincing realizing how desperate a man he'd become. Not allowing himself time to think about it or convince himself not to send it, he e-mailed the photo to Max, typing a quick note to accompany the photo. Once in a while, Max would find a way to take photos and messages to Bones for him. He didn't ask how—he didn't want to know. But now as much as ever he craved more information—pictures or some word, some cryptic message from Bones. It had been weeks since he'd gotten that last photo of Christine. He patted his pocket even though he knew the picture was safe there. Maybe sending a picture to Bones would encourage her to respond quickly. He needed that. He needed something to hold on to.

After sending the message, he sat there waiting, getting no response and watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon as if to remind him how the light had bled out of his daily life. Watching the light drain out of this day seemed symbolic, it seemed significant. It seemed damned appropriate. All visible and metaphorical light had left him and this house when Bones had driven away. Even though he knew that Bones and Christine might be staring right in this moment at the same sunset, he wasn't encouraged or hopeful. He was just waiting… waiting the way he'd been for months. Waiting for them… for his life to return to him. It wasn't that he hadn't tried to find them. He'd done everything short of getting himself arrested to try to find them. Were it not for Caroline and some quick thinking by Sweets, he might have ended up in jail more than once. All that risk and action had gotten him nowhere. So now he waited. Small victories and faint hope—that's what he had to search for these days as he counted the days until they returned to him.

Under a sky finally as black as his mood, Booth finally crept down the ladder and made his way back into the house. He was restless; he was uncomfortable in his own skin. Simply waiting didn't suit him—it never had except where Bones was concerned. He'd waited for so many years for her, and truth be told, he'd have waited that many more for what they finally shared. For what he desperately hoped they'd get back someday. It was only for her that he tried to wait patiently now. As patiently as possible, anyway.

Annoyed by the too-loud ticking of the clock in the empty, quiet kitchen, he grabbed his keys and made his way to the garage and into his car. Driving aimlessly, he finally pulled into the parking lot of a local bar. He'd been to this bar once with Bones just after they'd moved in. At that time, he'd imagined it would become a hangout—a place to grab a quick drink when time and the baby—their sweet baby-permitted.

Pressing thoughts of Bones and Christine far enough away from his heart so that he could breathe for a few moments, he made his way into the bar and sat down on a random barstool. He sat, gave the bartender his order, and drained the warm brown liquid from the glass as soon as it arrived. Nodding at the bartender, he motioned for a refill and received one quickly. The whole scene was eerily reminiscent of that night he'd asked Bones to drink with him as he drowned his sorrows about Hannah. It took so very little effort for everything to remind him of Bones—their lives and their hearts had been entwined too long for that not to happen. Painful as it now was, he still didn't wish that Bones' impression on his life as well as his heart were different. He just wished Bones were here beside him drinking and sharing what he was dealing with the way she had so many times before. Quickly realizing that his problems were bigger than any amount of alcohol, he sighed and contented himself with a long pull on his second glass.

After swallowing hard, he put the glass down and looked around the bar hoping to immerse himself in people-watching or a random game on TV or something—anything normal. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell upon the shapely brunette staring at him from the opposite end of the bar. He paused, noting that she smiled at him widely, clearly admiring his appearance and nodding invitingly to him. He smiled back at her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. When his eyes met hers a few moments later, it was as if she somehow sensed his sadness and the reason for it. She smiled back at him again—this time sympathetically. Even though he hadn't even considered being tempted, the exchange soothed his ego just a bit. He still had it. He could still turn a few heads. He didn't look as empty as he sometimes felt these days.

He might be wounded, but he wasn't broken—not by a long shot. When he was honest with himself, Booth had to admit that he was mad as hell at Bones. He had no way to measure his anger or to predict what he might do with it-once Bones and Christine were back and it was safe for him to unleash it. He'd considered more than once that, upon finding out that both were safe and home to stay, he might be tempted to rip Christine away from Bones and shut Bones out of both their lives. Sure, part of him might have been justified in having those thoughts. He wasn't even convinced that Bones wouldn't agree with him. He knew she had to be beating herself up for leaving him again and for separating him from his daughter. He knew that she understood better than anyone else how hard it was to have one's family disappear without warning. She knew what this was doing to him. Still, as angry as he was with her, thinking about revenge or retribution or other such things without her able to defend herself seemed disloyal. And he owed Bones loyalty if nothing else. Nodding in response and in gratitude to the woman who'd been able to see how committed he still was to Bones even though he doubted it in his darkest moments, Booth drained his drink and dropped a few bills on the bar before heading out to the parking lot.

Driving carefully the few blocks back home, he parked the car and locked up the house for the night. After a brief shower, he climbed into bed, lying on "his" side but hugging Bones' pillow to him tightly. He could now see so clearly how the tree house had become for him a metaphor for the happy family he and Bones had begun building. The tree house—like their very own home and the strong bond he and Bones had established over so many years—was the foundation. It was a good, strong start and a perfect foundation to build upon. Like any relationship—what it now needed was color and love and laughter and time to fill it with happy memories and other anthropologically significant events. Booth smiled in the darkness at the realization that Bones' love of anthropology had forever changed him. He'd have hated anthropology in school—probably would have flunked the class from sheer boredom. But like so many other things—Bones had showed him how much he'd have missed had he not taken the time to "squint" at it longer—time to consider its deeper meaning and time to appreciate its significance. Even though the warmth of that evening's hauntingly beautiful sunset was now too distant to warm his empty bed and ease his lonely heart, recognizing another imprint Bones had left upon him left Booth more hopeful and even more determined as he recommitted himself to doing whatever it took to bring his family back home.

The lonely but determined special agent fell into a slumber punctuated by dreams of painting and decorating the tree house with his lover and then playing in the tree house with his daughter and his son. Unbeknownst to him, at that very moment, a teary-eyed grandfather sent a photo and a note to his daughter where she remained in hiding. Even as he sent the message, Max knew that the image and Booth's message would be just one more thing to weaken her resolve and make it more difficult for her to stay away from the man she loved.

"Parker helped build our family tree house. Please come home, Bones."

Even as he re-read the brief message and realized that it presented a risk to his daughter's ability to stay hidden safely away from the authorities, he sent the message anyway—understanding as well as the man he hoped would one day become his son-in-law that no pain was too deep to bear for one's family.


End file.
